


what comes next

by lizard mouth (lizard_mouth)



Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: M/M, sure is gay in here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2019-01-06 17:20:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12215358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizard_mouth/pseuds/lizard%20mouth
Summary: But what now? Suppose Forsyth becomes a knight of the One Kingdom. Without some lofty dream of his to follow, where are either of them supposed to go?





	what comes next

When Python finds him in the mess hall after the feast, Forsyth's brows are furrowed deep, staring across the hall. Python clunks a mug of ale down in front of him, startling Forsyth and catching his attention by force.   
  
"You look stressed," Python says, pointing out the obvious. For once, though, Forsyth doesn't say much in return. He hums and makes space for Python on the bench, then takes a sip of ale without averting his gaze. Finally curious, Python sits next to him and looks in the same direction.   
  
He isn't shocked at what he finds Forsyth staring at. Clive sits next to Mathilda and Alm, smiling around his cup and watching as Clair animatedly tells a story, about some random suitor no doubt. Their table is the fullest, each person of noble birth squeezed in to fit on each side of the bench, and the rest of the army is scattered in their own circles. Still, Python knows how it hurts Forsyth to feel excluded from their inner circle. Even where Lukas prefers the company of Python and Forsyth over the likes of Alm and Clive, he is still welcomed into their circle.   
  
And what of Forsyth and Python? They cannot identify with the same jokes and stories as the nobles. Even though Alm was raised in Ram, he is royalty. Python will never know the things he or any of them do on a daily basis, and he has no plans to find out. Where he wants to find a quiet countryside outpost to spend his days at in leisure, he knows Forsyth wants to be one of them. He always has.   
  
That much makes Python's gut coil, and he glances at Forsyth's blank expression, trying to see what he knows is there. Forsyth has always been destined to want more than the simple life Python can offer him. He wants his name to pass down the lips of sons and grandsons as Forsyth, a legendary noble knight.   
  
Python just wants to be Python. He doesn't care for legacy or any of these wild dreams. He just wants to live a relatively easy life, preferably next to Forsyth.   
  
"Chin up, Forsyth. We won the war. Celebrate a little.”

Once Python has his attention, Forsyth smiles, wide and expressive as he's used to. Python gives him a pleased smirk back and clinks their mugs together, and they take a drink.   
  
"It's strange now that it's over. For all we talked of the future, we're finally here." Forsyth smiles at him, and Python suppresses a smirk. Forsyth talked a lot of the future himself, and Python would usually just nod or agree with him. Where Forsyth goes, Python will likely follow.   
  
"Sure thing. What're you thinking, Fors? What's the next big thing?"   
  
This must have brought back Forsyth's earlier line of thinking, since his grin falls a bit, and Python feels a pang of guilt. He knows what Forsyth worries about. With the war done, what excuse does he have to play knight? He can imagine his friend's mind racing with the idea that he won't even be allowed near the knighthood and that all will return to normal with a new top of the throne. Python trusts Alm enough to think of the peasantry, especially since Gray and Tobin have shown interest in joining.   
  
"Hm, we'll have to see what the One Kingdom and Sir Clive ask of us." Gods, it's always about Clive, isn't it? Python believes that if Sir Clive told him to run off a bridge, he would.   
  
"What about you? If it didn't matter what Clive said, what would Sir Forsyth do with his life?" Python hopes he can't hear the bitterness in the way his voice goes a little softer. He takes a drink of ale and empties out his mug while Forsyth hums.   
  
"I.... I don't know." His voice is soft in return, and he swirls the ale in his cup. Herein lies the problem with Forsyth: He doesn't have a plan past what he thinks would make other people like him. His motivations root in having a place with Clive and Lukas, not a hick town nobody like Python.  "Where will you go, Python? I'm sure you'll be glad to have me out of your hair."   
  
Not really, Python thinks, but he smirks instead. "Who knows? Maybe I'll hit up Jesse and Saber on their little mercenary gig. Seems like a pretty easy job to me." Forsyth's lips purse, probably annoyed with Python's motive, but he doesn't chastise him this time.

\---------

Later in the night, Forsyth catches Python slinking out of the party back towards their barrack. Not that he has an issue with a feast - but Python only has the patience to be around crowds of people for so long, even where alcohol is involved. At one point in the night, he's ready to simply lie down and enjoy the sound of the crowd at a distance.   
  
"Heading back?" Forsyth doesn't seem surprised at his departure. He's known Python long enough to know his tolerance for parties.   
  
"Yeah. Gotta get my beauty rest," he replies, and Forsyth snorts, but he walks side by side with Python. "You don't gotta ditch your party for me, Fors. Go have some fun."   
  
A selfish part of him feels smug when Forsyth just shrugs and goes with him, though. Take that, Clive.   
  
"Oh, I'm getting tired, too. Besides, I need to make sure you get to bed in one piece after all the ale you had!" It's probably an excuse, considering Python is walking perfectly fine. Knowing Forsyth's garbage tolerance, though, a few mugs would probably have him walking funny.   
  
"We ain't all a lightweight like you, Forsyth. I appreciate the babysitting, as always." He gives Forsyth a little smirk and a nudge, letting him know it's just a jape. Forsyth smiles warmly back at him.   
  
"Ha. Was it not you who suggested I let loose in a while?" Python snorts at his question.   
  
"Absolutely not. You'd be terrible at it." The incredulous look on Forsyth’s look is worth anything.   
  
"It was you, though!"   
  
"That's weird, I suddenly don't remember ever talking to you before." Forsyth scowls at that, and Python can't stop his shit eating smirk.

There's a soft moment of silence between them as Python thinks of how nice this is. Since the war started, they've been grating on each others' nerves a lot and trying to get in with other groups, so having his time with just Forsyth is refreshing. He fondly looks over at him as they walk, the way his lips purse and his expression shifts on its own like he's having a silent conversation with himself. Forsyth has never been good at concealing his emotions, and Python knows it's something Clive saw as a weakness - something for someone like Lukas to neutralize. Gods, if only he knew just how powerful Forsyth's emotion could be - how Forsyth's passion could be strong enough to pull even lazy Python into a bitter war. Perhaps Python was the only one who would have gone with him.   
  
Still, they can't see the growth Python has. There's such relief and joy in watching Forsyth realize his dreams. Even before they joined the Deliverance, Python can remember the look on Forsyth's face when he defeated a brigand for the first time all on his own, saving a local shop from being looted. That was what Python fights for - for Forsyth and boys like him to realize a dream even Python said was impossible, not the stupid nobles who created that impossible system.   
  
But what now? Suppose Forsyth becomes a knight of the One Kingdom. Without some lofty dream of his to follow, where are either of them supposed to go?

“Forsyth….” They reach Python’s barracks, and he looks at Forsyth’s face, startled out of his thoughts. “Listen.” That was a stupid thing to say, considering Python isn’t yet sure what he wants to say. Forsyth stares at him.

“Python? I’m listening.”

“Wherever you go next, I’m coming with you. No matter where you go,” Python blurts out suddenly. Forsyth’s raised eyebrows match Python’s own surprise that he actually said it out loud.

“...Unless you don’t want me around, you just gotta say the word.” He avoids making direct eye contact, uncomfortable with being vulnerable. “But until you’ve gone above and beyond stickin’ around with the likes of me--”

Forsyth cuts him off by crushing their lips together.

He’s messy, hurried, and too rough with Python’s face with the way his hands pull him in by the jawline, but everything about it is so Forsyth. It’s all impulse and passion without thinking of the consequences, and it’s everything Python imagined it would be. Python didn’t react soon enough, it seems, because Forsyth notices he is still and pulls away with a distraught expression.

“I... I’m sorry, that must not be… what you meant….” Gods, Forsyth thinks he’s being rejected, even when he just didn’t give Python enough time to react properly. He can’t help his startled laugh.

 

“Well, no, it’s not what I meant just now, but I don’t mind the topic change.” Forsyth is too slow to figure out what he means, so Python kisses him. His lips move slow against Forsyth’s until he finds reciprocation, and his hands go up to hold Forsyth there. He parts for breath and says, “I followed you into a damned war, Forsyth. Gimme a little credit here.”

 

He’s getting pushed into his tent by an eager Forsyth suddenly, arms going around his waist to stop him from falling backwards. “You’re one to talk about faith! You act like I’m going to run off after all we’ve been through --”

“-- Run off to follow Clive, yeah. Can you really blame me for thinking maybe I’m inadequate? Everything is a step up for you, what next big thing you’re going to run off and accomplish, so damn me for thinking you don’t want a useless carpenter’s brat trailing your ass everywhere and slowing you down.” He didn’t mean to say all of that, really, and he thinks he may have been too harsh based on the hurt look on Forsyth’s face in the dim candlelight. Those lips he just kissed curl into a hard line, like he’s afraid his lip might tremble.

“You think I’d do that to you?” For once, Forsyth’s voice is soft, and Python’s heart aches. He shouldn’t have said that, but it doesn’t change how he feels. 

“I’ve got fears too, you know.”

“Well,” Forsyth says, bringing his hands back up to Python’s cheeks, and he can feel his thumbs tracing the lines under his eyes from exhaustion. “Who could have guessed you’d be worried about something? Slap my ass and call me a pack mule, then.” Python’s eyes sting from the intensity of it all, but he still laughs. Gods, to be young like they were, marching across the country in search of knighthood. To be so innocent again.

“Whpssh,” Python says with a smirk. His whipping noise isn’t as good as Forsyth’s, but they know what he’s getting at, and Forsyth kisses him again. Finally, he’s learned a little patience in kissing Python, and soon he’s being walked backwards until his knees hit the bed and he sits with nowhere else to go. Forsyth stays standing, leaning over him and trying to kiss him into the mattress.

“Forsyth --” Python is cut off with a soft grunt as their hips brush into each other. They aren’t hard yet, but if he does that again he will be, but it’s difficult with the way he’s uncomfortable bent backwards over the corner of the cot. He wants to move them up, but Forsyth is doing a garbage job of listening to him.

“Fors --” Forsyth at least leaves his mouth open while he brings his lips down to his throat, mouthing at it greedily. Gods, for _once_ Forsyth is quiet, and it’s when Python actually wants to communicate. “Forsyth, for fuck’s sake!”

“What?” He sounds irritated to be interrupted.

“You’re going to snap my damned back.” 

“Oh.” Forsyth releases his iron grip on Python and he scoots up onto the bed, then reaches out to beckon Forsyth to follow. He can’t help the smirk that turns into a snort and then a laugh. Gods, if anyone would let him laugh when he’s about to get fucked, of course it would be Forsyth.

He’s intent on wiping that smirk right off Python’s face, though, the way his mouth goes back down to his throat and bites. Python lets out a low moan, tilting his hips up for Forsyth to feel, and before long he’s rocking his hips up against Forsyth’s, a hand pressed into his hair to keep him leaving bites at his neck. Not that Python would know if he was leaving any marks - his head is tipped back and lips parted where he pants, only the feeling of Forsyth’s lips and teeth moving lower telling him that he’s getting impatient.

He hopes Forsyth is leaving marks on him. Python knows he’s a cautious man, but he wants to walk into that mess hall covered in Forsyth’s bites, badges to prove he had Forsyth humping him like a dog instead of his precious Clive or Lukas. 

It’s ugly to want Forsyth to be possessive over him, but Python doesn’t particularly care. “Mm, c’mon, Fors. Is that it?”

Forsyth doesn’t fall for the bait, lifting his head to give Python an incredulous look. “How old are you? Have some damn shame, Python! I won’t have you walking around like you went into a carpenter’s closet!”

Python snorts. “You’re right. Wouldn’t want anyone thinking I’m still in the closet, right?” Forsyth rolls his eyes and finally sits down on Python’s thighs, pushing his shirt up and getting annoyed until Python sits up enough to push it off. “Don’t be shy, stud. You too.”

He gets Forsyth’s shirt off and puts his hands at his hips, feeling the deep V there and running his fingers over the scars along his abdomen. If nothing else, one easy benefit of becoming a baron is the fantastic physical shape he’s in, and Python is all here to appreciate it. His hands run up his torso to rest on his shoulders, letting out a low breath when Forsyth rolls his hips down again.

And he looks just how Python knew he would, too. He’s looking down where they rut against each other, his lips parted to pant heavily and brows furrowed like he’s nervous he isn’t doing it right. Well, Python will just have to take that nervousness away for him, then. 

He pushes Forsyth back down onto the bed until their positions are reversed, even though they’re facing the wrong way on the bed, but he straddles Forsyth instead and circles his hips until he’s grinding his ass down on Forsyth’s dick through his pants.

“Python,” he gasps, his hands going straight to Python’s hips. For a moment, he thinks Forsyth is going to stop him, but instead he uses his hold to press Python down faster.

“If you come in your pants, I’m not letting you live it down,” Python warns, and Forsyth apparently takes this as a cue to shove his hands down the back of Python’s pants and grope him while he rocks down.

His own dick is going pretty ignored, but there’s absolutely nothing like watching Forsyth slowly unravel beneath him. Instead of trying to make sure he’s doing the right thing, Forsyth is doing what he _wants_ , so what more could Python ask for? He lets Forsyth grab his ass. Why not?

It’s difficult with Forsyth’s iron grip on him, but Python manages to lean over the side of the bed - much to Forsyth’s annoyance at him leaving his lap - to pull oil out of the trunk there, and his eyes go wide when he sees it.

“Are you sure, Python, we don’t need to…”

“Your hands are already down there, may as well make ‘em useful.”

“I can–-!”

“Yeah, you’re gonna. I ain’t doing it myself.”

It’s nice being able to tease Forsyth like this, even when he’s rolling his ass down on his dick. He’s certainly imagined this scenario in the past, or even others involving Forsyth bending him over a desk or fucking him up against a wall in a show of his passion. He’ll take it easy on him today, instead pushing his pants down over Forsyth’s hand until they hang midway down his thighs, the rest of him naked.

“I should be lucky you’re showing some effort,” Forsyth teases, slicking up his fingers with the oil. “I’d expected you to lay back and make me do all the work!”

They both realize at the same time the implications of this, that Forsyth has thought about fucking him before, and Python’s dick twitches while Forsyth goes bright red. “I mean-- If you’d asked me --!”

“So you thought about it?” Forsyth’s blush goes all the way down to his chest. Python takes the opportunity to grind his ass down on the very prominent bulge where Forsyth’s dick is begging for attention, and Forsyth’s eyes flutter shut with a heavy breath. “Fucking me, I mean. Did you jack off to the thought?” He’s acting jealous, but Forsyth doesn’t seem to mind by the way his dick is responding, so he continues. “Always thought you’d get off to some noble making sweet love to you.”

Forsyth’s eyes open at that, and he sits up until their chests are flush against each other. A broad hand moves down until his index finger is pressing at Python’s ass, and he lets out a grunt of pain before allowing the finger entrance.

“You think I’d want a nobleman to bed me like a maiden? Ha! And here I thought you actually knew me.” Python can feel his finger pressing deeper until he gets down to the knuckle, and he lifts his hips just a bit, trying to let Forsyth know it’s okay to keep going, so he does. He starts pushing it in and out, stretching Python in preparation for that dick he’s been teasing.

“Sometimes, all I can think of is your filthy mouth,” Forsyth growls, and Python swears his vision goes white when he crooks his finger inside of him. “Making sweet love, is that what you think? I want to bring you to heel and have you beg, and you’d dare think I’d want it from anyone but you?”

Python opens his mouth to say something snarky, but when Forsyth adds another finger, all that comes out is a moan. He leans forward in Forsyth’s lap, rolling his hips down against his dick and trying to get some friction on his own to match the pace of Forsyth’s fingers. “Come on already, just - do it already, then.” His fingers fumble between them at the buttons to Forsyth’s pants, finally getting them open and freeing his cock. Python’s hand snakes between them and grabs it, but the way Forsyth responds tells him that his dry hand isn’t going to work. He takes the oil and spreads it liberally over Forsyth’s dick, feeling it twitch under his hand in interest. The fingers inside him no longer stretch painfully - instead, he’s rocking his hips back, groaning and trying to fit them in deeper before he pulls away from Forsyth’s hand and positions himself on his dick.

Their lips barely brush each others as Python sinks down onto his cock, feels the way Forsyth holds his breath and then moans when he bottoms out. “Python,” he gasps, and his voice is low and throaty. Python stares at him through heavy eyes, his breath coming in short gasps while he gets used to the _girth_ in him. Forsyth is an average length, but almighty Gods is he thick, and Python thinks he probably could have used that third finger.

“Are you okay?” Forsyth whispers the words, probably afraid of breaking Python with his dick buried in him and his hands gripping his ass cheeks, holding him open. Python’s forehead falls forward onto Forsyth’s shoulder before he lifts his hips and presses down again, getting used to the burn of Forsyth pushing into him. He can tell Forsyth is holding back by the way his fingers have an iron grip on him, trying not to just grab him and fuck him down. Frankly, though, that sounds more appealing than Python doing this kind of cardio. 

“Fuck me like you thought about,” Python breathes, feeling Forsyth’s lips against his while he says it. “Just do this one thing for you.”

Forsyth doesn’t waste any time. His lips crash into Python’s and kiss him hungrily like a distraction from the way his hands start to lift him and push him back down onto his cock, Python feeding him sharp moans with each thrust.

He gets greedy and leans farther down, hands moving away from his ass to help him put Python on his back to fuck him proper. Python’s legs go around his waist before he really goes to town, fucking him like true dragon killers.

“It’s only you,” Forsyth gasps, and he actually _bites_ his neck this time, leaving Python only able to reply with a moan louder than the breaths that leave him with each snap of Forsyth’s hips. “It’s always been you, Python - Ah, Python.” He’s changing between coherent proclamations of devotion like this and just groaning out his name, and Python can’t decide which is hotter to him.

“Oh, fuck,” Python says intelligently when Forsyth takes his ankles over his shoulders, nearly folding him in half and fucking into him wildly. “Fuck, Forsyth - shit.” Talking isn’t going to happen anymore, apparently, considering even just those are a challenge for Python when he’s getting fucked into the sheets.

And gods, he is getting fucked. Forsyth doesn’t even pull out fully before he’s snapping his hips back in hungrily, his lips sucking at the junction of neck and shoulder and finally claiming Python’s again. He can feel words of love on his tongue, but they’re swallowed up by their moans and the filthy smacking of Forsyth’s hips to his ass and the back of the cot slapping the tent wall. Distantly, it would be very obvious what is happening in that tent, but Python can’t even bring himself to care - he’s sure Forsyth is too far gone to even notice it happening.

Forsyth’s pace is getting frantic and uneven, and Python knows he comes by the wet wave in his ass and the way Forsyth brings their lips together desperately. He ruts inside of Python to ride out his orgasm, just grinding them together instead of outright fucking him, and Python hopes he’ll never forget the long moan he let out when he came. It was somewhere between Python’s name and incoherence and it was perfect.

“Let me take care of you,” Forsyth says, faithful as ever, and Python feels his heart swell at the adoring look he’s given. “I’ll do this for you.” He pulls out to lower Python’s legs back down and follows them down the bed until he’s nosing at Python’s unnoticed dick, swollen and angry at being ignored.

“Look at you,” Python breathes, his hand going to mess up Forsyth’s already ruffled hair. He looks absolutely wrecked - cheeks red, lips wet from making out, his hair sticking up in every which way. He lowers his head to put his lips over the tip of Python’s cock, and Python tips his head back and groans. “Gods, you’re gorgeous.”

Forsyth sucks at his head briefly before moving down to lick the shaft, long and broad strokes to cover as much ground as he can, ever the people pleaser. Python’s hand tightens needily in his hair, trying to get him to just put his damned mouth on him, but Forsyth is busy spoiling him with kisses and licks.

“It’s only for you,” Forsyth murmurs against his cock. “I’m only for you, and if you think I’d - I’d ever go anywhere without you, you’re wrong.” He looks up at Python, who stares intensely back at him. “The next step always has a place for you, Python. And if it doesn’t, well - then I shall gladly find a new staircase to climb with you.”

He takes Python down into his mouth, his tongue running up and down the underside while his cheeks hollow out in a suck. It takes only Forsyth looking up at his face for Python to come in his mouth, though Forsyth can’t quite take in everything and makes a mess of his face. He’d smirk if only he had the energy, but Python is feeling absolutely exhausted.

Forsyth at least has the energy to pull a tissue from the side chest and clean them both off before he collapses on top of Python.

“Offa’me, lug.” Turns out, gaining muscle and bulk makes Forsyth heavy. He grumbles and rolls over until he’s cutting off only the circulation in Python’s arm, which is more acceptable because of the way he lays his head on the pillow next to him to nuzzle into his hair.

“I meant it,” Forsyth says, delicately, and Python turns his head to look at the intensity in his eyes. It’s the same look he had all those years ago when he first decided to become a knight, and Python knows it’s useless to change his mind even if he wanted to. 

Python smirks back at him, admiring the pleased little smile on Forsyth’s lips. He presses one more kiss to them, tossing his living arm over Forsyth’s side to cuddle up. “Shoulda known I couldn’t get rid of you that easy.”

**Author's Note:**

> pls talk to me about forsython on twitter @lizard_mouth im lov them


End file.
